


Mania

by CaveCarson (TinySparks), thescarletwoman



Series: Stark Resilient. [2]
Category: Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: @AmAlwaysAngry, @StarkSalsus, Bromance, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Gen, I'm a really big fan of excessive tagging okay?, M/M, Romantic Friendship, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Stark Tower, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony likes to think he's straight lolwhat, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and my co-author is too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:04:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinySparks/pseuds/CaveCarson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescarletwoman/pseuds/thescarletwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of course, it's kind of difficult to think about much else other than Tony Stark when he's in between your legs and pressed up against you, regardless of anyone's intent, least of all his. </p>
<p>At least Bruce got to taste the coffee Tony made before he started to goof off..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mania

Tony.

Bruce.

Coffee.

* * * *

“So are you actually making it? Hmmm?”

“Believe it or not, there /are/ some things that I still do for myself, like boiling coffee on the stove; The way you're /meant/ to have it. Forget the coffee machine, man. There's no automation required in this particular kinda magic...” Tony happily burbles away about the fine art of coffee making, fixing up the coffee ground and setting the coffee to boil.

Bruce pulls himself up and onto a counter, settling almost contentedly as he watches Tony work. “I must admit— I’m shocked. I didn’t take you for someone to actually take the time to make it properly. Maybe I should start doing a French press for you?”

“Don't spoil me, Bruce; I'm an asshole like that - I take shit being done for me for granted. Ah. Anyway, yeah - this one tiny thing, I like to hold onto it. It's visceral, you know? The scent, the texture, the physicality... So much of what I do is intangible, so... You know what I mean. You've got to live outside your mind, when you're so wired in, or caught up in theoretics, right? Heh.”

Bruce just chuckles, watching Tony work. “Yeah, you do. It's not until the very end when you finally start getting to see the actual results of what you're doing. And what you've come up with. And find out if it really /will/ work. And I won't deprive you of your coffee making time either. Promise. But maybe I'll have you start making me coffee. I feed you... Fair exchange?”

“Sure. Nothing in this life is free, huh? I'm actually quite a big fan of the barter system, now that I've got the raging capitalist shit out of my system.” He gives Bruce smirking side-eyes then, before hunting down some mugs.

“See, isn't it better being a socialist?” He smirks, watching for Tony's reaction.

“Card carrying member of the Fourth International, me.”

“Should I start calling you Trotsky from now on?”

“I'm thinking more Diego Rivera, honestly. He was a genius /and/ manwhore, too. And if I'm Rivera, you've /got/ to be Kahlo... You've got the eyebrows, after all.” Tony braces himself.

Bruce throws a balled up paper towel at Tony's head, with a smirk. “Watch it, bucko...” He's laughing though. Tony responds with a deranged little grin, tossing a nearby dishtowel straight at Bruce's face in one scary-fast motion. Not expecting it, he pitches backwards onto the counter with a thunk. “...GYACK-!” 

“HAH! Uh... You okay?” With Tony's luck, he's probably caused Bruce to crack his skull open, [pleaseno].

Bruce is, however, still laughing. “Yes, I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting that, is all.”

“Stealth Mode, that's what it's all~ about…” Tony crosses over, grinning, then clasps Bruce's hand to help pull him back up, which Bruce allows.

“Thanks for that,” he says, grabbing the towel to smush it in Tony's face in retaliation, who curses out seven circles of Hell. 

“...Asshole--!” Cue general scuffling about, and so forth; Bruce, just laughing and play-fighting with Tony, having a grand old time, and trying not to fall off the damn counter; Tony meanwhile dancing tickle-fingers over his pal’s sides, until Bruce is at it too, poking and grabbing and wiggling at Tony’s ribs - who soon begins to scream about the coffee burning; ADVANCED ESCAPE STRATAGEM! ...Totally unsuccessful - Banner wraps his legs around Stark, heels digging into his spine. Tony, screaming like a girly-girl. Eventually he cries out, pleading with a giggle-hiccup amidst panting gulps of air. 

“Stoooooopppp~! Bru~. Seriously, I-- Can’t…” 

When Bruce finally releases Tony, it is with a triumphant smirk. “I win.”

“Fucking demon-hands…” Tony pants, leaning against Bruce for support; Surely the coffee's boiling by now...?

Bruce is quiet in that pent up Bruce-ish way, sitting upright on the counter, peering over the rims of his spectacles. “So... coffee, yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” Tony - still faintly breathless, cheeks reddened from the respiratory exertion even as he peels away from Bruce - fixes up the coffee silently. Tony reckons it's a comfortable silence, though; The way things ought to be between close friends.

Once the coffee is done, Bruce holds out his hand, and Tony delivers a steaming mug, after sidling back over to the counter to face him as before. 

“...Cheers,” the good Doctor smiles, blowing on the brew. “Thanks, this... Wow. It smells amazing, Tony.”

“S'Colombian. Nhhhm~,” Tony inhales deeply - any deeper he’s have his sinuses full of liquid. “...Smells /and/ tastes better in good company, didja know that?”

“Does it really!?” Bruce gasps, affecting surprise.

“So I hear. I can't really confirm or deny, though - the company here’s kinda questionable…” Tony flashes a toothy grin.

“Questionable, eh?” Bruce takes a sip, contemplating. “Don't make me tickle you again.”

“Like I even have to push... I really get under your skin, huh?” Tony says it like it pleases him, and blows on his coffee with serious nonchalance.

Bruce mutters something that sounds like 'in more ways than one' and just sips at his coffee. “Get under my skin? Never. Nooo…”

“You'd think I'd tread more lightly,” Tony continues, pausing for a sip, “...considering. Kinda makes it all the more unbearable. Like I can't actually help but try to wind you up some... Heh.” It's pretty obvious he's referring to the green issue.

“Well, I think I've proven so far that I can handle... you being you,” Bruce chuckles. “The Other Guy hasn't made an appearance in a while either. So I think he can handle you... being you.”

“...Dammit.” Tony adopts his Disappoint Face, frowning, and thunks his coffee cup down on the counter. “I had this whole sassy little thing about ‘playing with fire’ I was going to wax lyrical on... You killed it, man,” he finishes with a /huff/.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry.” Bruce clears his throat. “...Yes, You're such a pain in the ass. Please, tell me how you play with fire, Stark.”

“No, no, it's gone. You were the fire, I was like a batshit little moth or whatever, the thrill of danger, blah blah, analogy.”

“Oh. I can... growl menacingly at you? Would that help?”

“It might do? And if not, I'll just laugh my ass off, and that's always a good thing.”

Banner lets out a very, /very/ menacing growl, dammit. Stark raises both brows, and makes a small "oooo~" of surprised approval.

“Did it work...?”

“Am I laughing?” Tony steps up close to the countertop, placing himself between Bruce's knees, proceeding to make fluttery moth motions with his hands, laughing heartily.

Bruce, shaking his head for only the hundredth time that weeek, pushes on Tony's forehead playfully. “You look like you're having a fit, Stark,” and he's laughing too, which makes it hard to growl, but he /just/ manages it - which only makes Tony press back with the flat of his noggin, getting all up in Bruce's face, fingers wiggling in his peripheral vision as they creep in from the sides; Yes, he /does/ appear a little manic, which is probably due to the ever-lurking mania, /hell-oh~/.

All of this simply serves to make Bruce laugh all the harder, sliding his coffee cup further down the counter, out of the way before it gets knocked over like so many vials in Tony’s presence. 

“Just so you know, I'd be making moth sounds too, if I knew how to,” Tony says, grinning like a lunatic, fluttery moth-fingers (?) edging dangerously close to the man on the countertop's sides, just above the hips; Generously allowing the opportunity for Banner to protest. But… Even if he /did/ want to protest? ...He probably wouldn't. Not when his heart gives that little lurch as it speeds up and he needs to remember /this is a bad idea/ and /this is Tony/ and it doesn't mean anything to the engineer. 

“I don't think there are moth-sounds to be made, in all honesty. But we can, ah, pretend you're making them...?”

“And we can pretend that you're pissed at me, too - 'cause that growling thing's like, I can't help but be giddy, and you don't even know how badly I need to laugh right now.”

But before there's an opportunity to pick over that, Tony sets his hands just above Bruce's hips, and as he slides palms upwards it's weirdly tempting to just keep going, if only to see how Bruce might react, and Bruce looks like he's going to open his mouth to say something, so Tony just /unleashes/ the tickle beast within, and whatever Bruce was about to say is gone as the other man’s fingers fall on him, tickling hard. He lets out a yelp-growl, wrapping his legs around Tony's waist to keep from pitching over and falling from the counter. Again. So he squirms, half trying to get away, half not. All the while trying to remind himself that this isn't anything, dammit. Just /them/. Acting like children.

[Nnh…?] Every time Bruce does that faux-rage growly thing it does two very different things to Tony; It makes him giddy, in this childish, playful manner that's only really reserved for dorking around with the physicist, and it allows him to wash away all the wound-up tension that results from burying his personal issues below the surface on a daily basis - it just enables him to let go, dick around, and have plain, simple fun. So what if it's childish? The pair of them have seen far more than most, when it comes to serious - to real life... But that little growl does something else, something that makes Tony feel... /excited/. Like he is literally /playing with fire/. Tony being Tony, he gets off on risk, on the possibility of danger, however slight. Whatever - Bruce yelps and /growls/ and squirms, and yet he's got his legs wrapped about Tony, who just won't stop 'til he gives in and admits defeat. And maybe not even then. He doesn't want Bruce to stop growling, and tussling, and being close.

And Bruce, he's trying not to /think/, not to read into things like this that has Tony far too close than he has any right to be, and Bruce knows he shouldn't have his legs there, wrapped almost intimately around his waist. But still they are and still he keeps Tony held in place, still half laughing/half growling at the other man. He squirms, his own hands trying to find purchase on Tony's body, attempting a tickle here or there. Sometimes touching skin, other times just the fabric of his shirt. But all of it keeping Tony close. All of it to just let himself stay in the moment and not think about anything else. Just Tony.

Of course, it's kind of difficult to think about much else other than Tony Stark when he's in between your legs and pressed up against you, regardless of anyone's intent, least of all his. At least Bruce got to taste the coffee Tony made before he started to goof off... The scent of rich roast permeates the kitchenette's airflow, the smell of it alone almost acting as a drug to the olfactory senses; A drug to which he's completely addicted, and happily so, considering the place of that which it has filled... As they scuffle and tickle, maintaining their closeness, Tony realizes that he can smell the coffee on his friend - maybe on his lips, or breath.. At least they hadn't been eating garlic!, says a stupid little voice in Tony's mind. It's an odd thought, but it's there nonetheless as he lets fingertips glide over Bruce's tummy, making him crease against himself. He's verging on kind of manic now, and the laughter is taking its toll; He may even be getting a slight stitch, and he has to rest his head against Bruce's shoulder, wheezing for a hysterical moment against the crook of his neck that smells of /Bruce/ - a sheer cleanliness in a way that is simply unattainable to a man used to being knee deep in engine oil.

Bruce, however, is torn between holding Tony even tighter, and pushing him away before he goes completely manic... Well, even moreso manic than he already is right now. The hands on his torso feel good and it's hard not to arch into that touch either. Hard… not to dip his head for one brief moment and keep his eyes closed and think this is something other than teasing. But that's crazy talk, he knows. This isn't them. This is just... /them/ playing at things and he can't notice the tinge of coffee mixed with motor oil mixed with /something/ else that's so uniquely Tony. He can't curl up with him, he can't hold him. He just has this moment. Still, his fingers thread through Tony's hair, keeping him still as he murmurs soft words in a vain attempt to try and quell the quaking mania into something a touch more stable...

Tony, at this point, outright quakes - trembling violently against Bruce, against the way he holds him tight, and safe. And as time passes, the hysteria ebbs, little by little... Tony feels dizzy, kind of surreal, in a way that gives him a bit of a headache and makes him really want to lie down and remember how to breathe normally. But in the meantime, he pants and shudders against Bruce's neck, and keeps his arms wrapped tightly about him, as if he may fall apart completely if he lets go. Bruce's fingers card through his hair and it's so comforting it's barely real, so sudden is the shift from hysterical laughter to exhaustion, and Tony just presses in tighter, and closer, and listens to Bruce's murmurings absently, heart still thumping wildly so much so that Bruce can feel it in his own chest, the vaguest sense of guilt for being so /weird/ nipping at his heels.

Bruce doesn't say much of anything, outside of these few whispers and soothing words to try and keep Tony calm and together. He keeps running his fingers through Tony's hair, keeps his legs tight, and makes it so the man can't escape to go be manic somewhere else. He'll ride out this wave with Tony, then maybe convince the man to drink some tea and put him to bed. He knows he'd always take care of Tony like this. Will always do what he must to keep the man's inner demons away. “I gotcha…”

“You got... got me.” God, Tony's tired. He's worn out from running around avoiding things, in a way that sees him going out for a zip around Manhattan, and end up in Europe without him even realizing it... Tony's got his coping mechanisms, and while they're nowadays a hell of a lot less damaging than alcohol abuse, they're far from perfect. Somehow, he knows that Bruce is willing to help him work on this stuff, put up with his manic uppers and downers, his bipolar fits, unearthly levels of obsession, and self-neglect; There's a reason that Bruce is his best friend, and it isn't because they can talk science and dork out over Star Trek and fight over junk food. Tony huffs out an embarrassed laugh, his eyes suddenly a little damp, which thankfully Bruce won't catch since Tony smushes his bloodflushed face against his science buddy’s neck and mumbles about wanting to go to bed, please.

“As you wish, Tony,” says Bruce in a soft voice, barely above a whisper as he slowly unwinds himself from around Tony. It's funny, how there's this feeling of loss when he's no longer holding Tony so tightly. He nuzzles the man's temple without even thinking, the kiss to his forehead even more of an afterthought. “C'mon... Bed is this way, Tony.”

* * * *

/Sleep/.


End file.
